Why So Sirius?
by sparrowed
Summary: Gordon messes around with the Joker. Harry Potter crossover ... sorta. A twoshot?
1. The Pencil Trick, revamped

**A/N:** I gotta clear a few things up for those who are familiar with the HP fandom (and a few more things for everyone).

i) Let's pretend that Sirius Black reincarnated or somethin'.

ii) Let's also pretend that the Ministry cannot track _his _usage of magic.

iii) This is set during the interrogation scene between Gordon and the Joker, before Batman appears. Let's pretend that there's no one watch on the other side of that two way mirror.

If you spot a plothole, fill them yourself, since this fic is not to be taken too srsly. Mmkay? Mmkay. I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

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Kids these days. They have no regard for their elders, I tell you! Yes, there is that handful of exceptions that I am more than grateful to have known in _another_ lifetime. Funny how in that _other_ lifetime, I had spent quite a few of my final years behind bars. Funny how in my _current_ life, it is my duty to rally the bad eggs and put them in their place. Though, without having experienced my dreadful days in Azkaban prison -- an erroneous conviction right from the start, _honest!_ -- I would not be the esteemed man I am today. I always, _always_ ensure that I apprehend the right individual before I lock them up behind the iron bars that I should not be so familiar with.

This kid is the _worst._ He can't possibly be a day over thirty, but he is undoubtedly over the age of twenty-five. I call him a kid because he acts like one. So this is what happens when an infected mind from the youth of Generation X refuses to age. The nihilistic, deviant judgments of a teenager remain, but the imperious authority of an adult had driven him to this point. I don't know; this is what I am getting just by looking at him, and deeming from every slippery word that falls out of his mouth and aspires to persuade me.

I've dealt with worse. Hell, I've had my very soul sucked out of me. Well, almost. This kid thinks he can fool me? What with his fancy words and astute albeit subjective grasp on philosophy? Because of course, in this world, the biggest villains are the ones with the biggest opinions, and it's just a battle of who can have their opinions heard in the biggest way to become the biggest baddy on earth. Big, big, big _whoop. _Anyone can say 'the Joker', but I know, for sure, that the Wizarding World still trembles under the mere uttering of the name ... _"Voldemort"_.

The Joker has got nothing on him. Hell, he's got nothing on me. I'm still, in some ways, Sirius Black. My magical abilities have not diminished, they just remain dormant now. Oh, how sweet it would be to parade my powers in front of this narcissistic brat who thinks he's the big cheese. I haven't used magic in a while ... this would be the perfect time ... it's tempting, very, _very_ tempting --

My lips twitch into a small smirk. Anyone else wouldn't notice, but the Joker does.

"A-_ha!"_ the Joker's eyes light up like light bulbs, and I briefly wonder if they are. Or maybe the whites of his eyes just stand out distinctly in the dark. It must be that. "Did one of my jokes _finally_ tickle the Commissioner's _funny_ bone?" His tone is sneering, and perhaps a little triumphant. "You're a tough one to crack, I'll give you that. For a minute there I thought we were engaged in a staring contest, heh_-hoo!" _He giggles mirthfully.

"Jokes are good, I like jokes," the Joker says quickly, in a tone that suggests that the topic of discussion had shifted into something more intellectual. He leans back in his chair, only to then incline forward on the table once more when he adds, "They gotta be _good_ jokes too, especially the ones _I_ choose to deliver. Gotta live up to the name, y'know? Heh, I would hate for my reputation to precede me and then have people scratching their heads as to why I call myself that." The Joker grimaces in an exaggerated manner. "That's _not_ good, no."

There's a pause. I think he is expecting me to fill the silence for once, but I can't think of anything to say. I don't _feel_ like talking when I'm like this. There is a silent battle raging within me; why is the lure of magic so tempting all of a sudden? I've been magically abstinent for a little over a decade now. The Joker finally speaks, and from what he says, I suspiciously wonder if the Joker is secretly gifted with Legilimency.

"I think magic tricks are cool, too." At the word 'magic', I blink and my gaze fixates on him with interest before I can stop myself. The Joker smile swells at my reaction; he probably thinks that I find that this newly shared characteristic to be relevant to something, and is simply patronizing me with his grin. Big-headed fool.

"I can do a really neat magic trick with a pencil! Wanna see?" he asks with childlike enthusiasm. I am not immune to the mischief that flashes in his eyes.

I smile at him in a way that informs him that I know exactly what he was talking about. In any other profession, I probably would have found his maneuver to be quite amusing. I still think I could do it better, just a little ... _differently_...

... oh, what the hay. Why not?

"Dang, that's a bummer," the Joker says with a smug grin, relaxing back in his chair. Why doesn't he put his feet up while he's at it? "You would have laughed, I'm sure. You're not as wet of a blanket as your other boy scouts."

I mean, It's not like I'll get caught ... the Ministry knows nothing of me; to them, I'm as dead as I was first declared back in the Department of Mysteries.

Blast, I should be concentrating. The Joker is going on about something; I see his lips moving and his features contorting into a dozen different expressions per second, but none of it is registering. It should be; I'm the bloody Commissioner now! He could be going on about the whereabouts of Harvey Dent by now, for all I know.

But how could I possibly concentrate on this verbose psychopath when my fingers are longingly twitching to reach down and draw my wand from its concealed cavity of my shoes?

"Does it depress you, Commissioner?"

He says my name. Well, my title. But it is enough to snap me out of my deliberation.

"... to know just how _alone_ you really are?" For a moment, Sirius Black lapses out of focus and I remember who I am _now,_ who this guy is, and what he is doing to the city I inhabited. I remember how much I hate him and want this son of a bitch to vanish from existence. "Does it make you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current predicament?

The Commissioner Jim Gordon side of me is about to demand Dent's whereabouts, but Sirius Black rebels.

Do it. _Do it!_

"I can make a pencil disappear too," I say all of a sudden. The battle within me has drawn to a close, as Commissioner Gordon deplores with the losing side. I'm gonna regret this, but at least I'll enjoy it first. It'll be like lighting up a cancer stick after so many years of being clean.

"He speaks!" the Joker rejoiced with a giggle, throwing his shackled hands in the air with jubilation. "Well, Commissioner! I'm all eyes! And hopefully after this lark, I'll still have both of them! Ha-_HA!"_

I smile at him as I ferret through my pockets for a pencil, or even a pen; I never deny him my gaze, and he grins challengingly as he holds it. Enjoy it while you can, you conceited Muggle. Eventually, I break my gaze from him to place the pencil square in the center of the table between us.

"See the pencil?" I casually ask, aligning the pencil neatly.

"I see it."

"Good," I say. I hold his gaze as I reach down to draw my wand, and I suppress a superior grin as the Joker _almost_ frowns in confusion of my actions. He completely raises his eyebrows when my wand comes into view. I refuse him any opportunity to ridicule my intentions, as I lean forward to the pencil, pointing the tip of my wand at it. I can see from the corner of my eyes, that the Joker is opening his mouth to speak, and in one move, I make both the pencil and his ability to form coherent utterances _disappear._

_"Evanesco!"_

The table is bare. The pencil had disappeared; it doesn't fade away, nor does it roll out of view, it simply pops out of existence. I look up ... and grin complacently at my findings. The Joker's features had cemented completely-- from shock, not from some magical side effect. His features had solidified the moment he was about to sneer at my endeavors. His mouth was agape with the indications of a grin, as if he had been paralyzed in the middle of laughing. His eyes did not match with his petrified grin; they were as wide as saucers, filled with genuine horror.

I wish I brought my camera. Then again, I could just summon it ... but for now, I know that it must be me to break the ice this time.

"It's _gone!"_ I goaded like a carnival illusionist, gesturing the now empty table with spirit fingers. I couldn't take my eyes off of his priceless expression; I gotta savor it while it's there.

Suddenly, the Joker bursts into laughter; I _knew_ his expression would be fleeting. My confidence is not at all hindered, because I can detect the notes of uncertainty within his hysterics. Within time, it begins to manifest upon his face.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA ... hah ... heh..." His expression visibly dwindled from hysterically amused to downright flummoxed. "...what."

"I did it, I made it disappear," I harp as casually as I could manage, nonchalantly gesturing the empty table. I grin at his apparent disorientation; he was blinking hard and wildly, leaning into the table and senselessly feeling around on its surface.

"How did you --" The Joker glances up at me and his eyes instantly narrow into diverted slits as he smirks. He must have caught my grin, but mistook its significance. "Gordon, you _sly_ one you! That wasn't even a real pencil! It was a hologram!"

I snort, and his grin falters a little. I swallow my laughter for now.

"Right," I roll my eyes as I stifle my laughter. I had expected this; y'know, attempted rationalization. "We installed a hologram projector, in this interrogation room, within a short matter of hours, just so I could make a pencil disappear specially for you."

The Joker's disillusionment escalates vividly as I say this, but at the last few words, he pouts and sniffs, "I thought I _was_ special!"

"Oh, you're special alright," I grin impishly as I bring out my wand once more, and resume tapping it offhandedly on the table. The Joker narrows his eyes at it, suspicious of its nature. "I mean, who could _possibly_ begin levitating, upside down, just--just out of the _blue?"_

Within the tapping of my wand, I swish and flick it briskly at the Joker, hurriedly think, _"Levicorpus!" _and then resume tapping it. I was swift enough to have my exploits go unnoticed by the Joker. Whatever the Joker is about to say, judging by the brief look of bewildered amusement on his face, it starts with a _'W'._ Before he could form any words, the Joker is hoisted into the air by his right ankle from an undetectable force. Now, it's my turn to laugh.

_TBC..._

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**A/N: **Review, yes?


	2. Mischief Managed?

**A/N:** Thanks to all that reviewed, especially _KayosHybrid_ for that particularly flailtastic review -- you're really doing a number on that Capslock key LOL. Be careful to not break the internetz, bb.

Apologies for the lateness, school has been really demanding. I'm supposed to be working on an English essay, but it's stressing me out, so I did this instead. :S

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As the Joker struggles against whatever it is he suspects is holding him up by the ankle, I steal a glance at the door behind me. I want my privacy while I have a little fun, thank you very much.

With little concern reading on my face, I deftly flick my wand at the door as I whisper, _"Colloportus!"_ and smile when I hear a sound lock. The Joker hears it too, I notice, when I turn back to him. His head had whipped up (well, down) to me, and his eyes dart to and from me and the door. He is wide-eyed with hysteric suspicion.

"What are you _doing?"_ the Joker asks in an incredulous tone that startles himself the moment he says it. I can only relish with a smug grin as I cross one leg over the other. He gawks pointedly at me, after he had reached up and grasped nothing but air around his thieved ankle. "There's nothing_ there!"_

"Nothing but _air,"_ I correct, frowning at him reprovingly.

I can't help but laugh out loud at the frantic look he shoots me, and it only provokes his accelerating indignation. I lean back in my chair as I fold my arms, evaluating my feats. No doubt the abrupt changeover in the interrogation's upper hand is driving the Joker mad (...madder); I can feel the vehemence radiating from his dangling form. I murmur to him fondly, "Oh, how I've missed magic."

I can't put my finger on one adjective to classify the Joker's expression. It is a hybrid of horror, disbelief, doubt and loathing, and it is all sincere, much to our mutual astonishment. It takes a few minutes for it to dawn on the Joker -- _it_ being what I am and what I am capable of -- before he finally speaks. I am smiling patiently at him the entire time. Perhaps, me smiling at him at the moment is a little patronizing, but who cares? It's the Joker.

"And I thought _I_ was the freak!" the Joker finally laughs humorlessly, staring at me with genuine horror. I try to smile warmly at him.

He is about to say something, when something catches his eye. I don't even have to look in the direction he is looking to know what it was. It was the two-way mirror. His features morph into something more sinister. "Aren't you afraid your boy scouts will burn you at the stake?"

There is no one watching at the moment. I made sure of that going in. But nonetheless, I reply with a breezy shrug, "Oh, nothing a little memory charm can't conquer." I flash him a kind smile. His lips curl with distaste.

"Ah, no problemo Gordo; I'll just do it myself!" He attempts a nefarious grin, but I can see how contrived it really is. "I like playing with fire, y'see." His eyes suddenly ignite, and the wicked glint returns. "But hey, why stop at one stake, hm? Why not torch down the _entire_ Gordon residence?"

Suddenly, the Commissioner Gordon and Sirius Black in me stop fighting for authority. Figuratively, they swap glances, mull over the Joker's threatening remarks, and finally, the two personas become one. After a short moment for that to occur, I apparate myself to meet the Joker, nose to nose. I am too livid to savor his 'smacked in the face' expression when I did this.

"Threaten _me,_ you insolent, young muggle?!" I snarl into his face, and he doesn't seem ruffled by my invasion into his personal space -- if any. It takes me a moment to realize that my American accent had been dropped. The Joker is regarding me oddly, as if to ask, _'What did you just call me?'_.

"Granted, I have no idea what you are capable of," I begin in a more composed manner, stepping back and appraising his current state, "but I am quite certain I exceed every one of your qualities, making me in every way more powerful than you can ever be." I grin roguishly at him. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. I note, with some smugness, that he is making no effort to argue.

"Sure, maybe you'll triumph over Gotham one day and people will finally embrace your judgments," I say as I deviously circle him with my hands behind my back; one hand still gripping the wand. The Joker narrows his blackened eyes at me, beckoning me to continue when I stop to smirk at him, "But I can _easily_ take that away with just a few whirls on the _Time Turner_."

Okay, that was a lie, in a way. A Time Turner could work, but I don't have one. But the Joker doesn't know that. Which is why he now appears blatantly infuriated, knowing that I am always ahead of him by nature, and that is one thing he could not do a thing about.

The Joker wavers on his response for a moment, making an effort every now and then to say something, only to waffle at his words and advance in a new approach. Eventually, he seemed to throw in the towel and throw a hissy fit instead.

"Why don't you just go all _'Abra Kadabra'_ on my ass and--and _kill_ me already if it's so easy?" he sourly spits, followed by a few laughs that sound artificial and desperate.

"First of all, if I wanted to kill you, it's _'Avada Kedavra'_, people seem to confuse the two," I correct, sternly pointing at him and ignoring the insensitive roll of his eyes. "Secondly, the spell, also known as The Killing Curse, is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Forgive _me_ for despising the very thought of being granted another one-way ticket to Azkaban prison," I huff haughtily, before I add, in a slightly sadder note, "Besides, I'm dead to the Magical community."

Long dead, I should have said. It's been _thirteen_ years since I had been killed by my banshee of a cousin, Bellatrix, and was propelled into the veil that separated the world of the living from that of the dead. I think about Harry every day, as I am tempted to pay him a visit in London. Though I know, him seeing me again, alive, well and successful, would only cause him more pain, and even some for myself. His suffering would have been for nothing. As appealing as it is, I cannot see him again, for I risk severing his trust in me.

Merlin's beard, I'm still in the room with the Joker, aren't I? I glance up at him; my head must have been bowing in shame during my brooding. The Joker looks as if I had just told him a joke that he didn't quite understand. I probably confused him with my talks of Azkaban prison, curses, and supposedly being dead...

What was I talking about? Ah, his question.

"But as for the true intent of your question," I begin, and he blinks out of his perplexity just as I regain my direction, "I didn't become Commissioner by waving a magic wand at every little deed that needed to be done. I mean, the Polyjuice Potion did help during those trips to the grocery store," I muse aloud, oblivious to the Joker's scowl of bafflement at the mention of Polyjuice Potion, "but other than that, my entire career within the law enforcement has been magic free." I smile, seemingly proud of myself.

"Then why are you using it _now?"_ He sounds irritated. Though, he has every reason to be; I'm virtually tormenting him with such abilities that he knows he can never possess. I almost pity him.

"Because I'm making an exception for a particularly special individual." I just _know _he is going to take that as a compliment. His grin tells me my instincts are correct.

"I _knew_ I was special!" he giggles.

"Mhm." I point my wand at him, and before he could mock me, I utter, "_Liberacorpus!" _He drops, and before he hit the ground, I command,_ "Mobilicorpus!"_

The Joker looks at me blankly as he simply floats in mid air. He eyes me challengingly, as if to say, _'Is that all you've got?'._

But then I move my wand.

"This isn't fair!" he whines sulkily, as he is thrown from one side of the room to the other like a pendulum, all by the control of my wand. I laugh mirthfully and sit back on his chair in amusement, kicking up my feet in the manner that I thought he would have done earlier.

_"You_ want to talk about fairness?" I sneer incredulously, watching him cartoonishly splat in a spread-eagle position against each opposing wall. _"HA!"_

I flourish the wand in a sweeping move, and the Joker's form followed suit. Unfortunately, this time, I moved with a little too much force, and the Joker smashes the mirror upon impact. Startled, I gasp and immediately retract the spell, sending the Joker dropping to the shard-carpeted floor with a groan.

I arch up from my seat slightly, to peer at him on the floor from over the table.

"You alright over there?" I ask in a high voice, both anxious of his condition and suppressing a laugh at his amusing misfortune. "Sorry 'bout that. I, uh -- my _arm,_ had a spasm."

Groans of discomfort are his only retort, as he takes his time to struggle to his feet. I realize that his troubles had all been an act when he swiftly swivels around in a flash and comes lunging after me, cackling perversely, like greased lightening. The keen shard of glass in his hand twinkles harshly as he charges forward.

Hastily, I command, _"Expelliarmus!"_

The Joker lets out his eccentric equivalent of a squeal when the shiny glass fragment magically whisks out of his hand and lands by the cell's threshold. As he takes the moment to watch it do so, I cast another spell on him.

_"Impedimenta!"_

The Joker only accomplishes to deliver a dense "Huh?" when he turns around just as I say this.

His mouth widens to holler at me when a long, black rope snaps into existence and proceeds to bind itself around the Joker's form, helping itself to station across the Joker's mouth, gagging him and caging any further word. He flitters about on his feet for a moment, struggling to keep his balance, as if he is being held prisoner inside a sleeping bag, before tumbling to the ground and rolling onto his stomach. His whining howls are lost under the rope that smothers him.

I fail to ward off the impulse to laugh as I watch him, face planted against the floor, with his legs flailing about in the air impotently. My laughter ceases with a nervous hiccup when I hear a voice, that is belonged to neither me nor the Joker.

"Gordon, what are you doing in there?" Detective Stephens. He knocks on the door and tries the handle. My eyes fly open with panic at the sound of his struggle. "Why is the door locked from the inside? Gordon!"

"Just a moment, Detective," I say back, reverting back to the Commissioner Gordon professionalism. From the corner of my eye, I can see the Joker feebly floundering towards me, like a fish out of water. Although it's quite an amusing sight, my cold sweat has immobilized all my triggers to laugh. I countermand the hex the very second the Joker is idle.

The moment the black ropes unlash themselves off of the Joker, and vanish out of existence, he opens his mouth with a loopy grin.

"You're in _troub_--"

Shut up, muggle.

_"Langlock."_

The Joker, who was once splayed out on the floor lazily upon his body's release, suddenly stiffens with a jolt when he feels something very strange happen inside his mouth.

"Nnngg! Nnnng!" I smirk weakly at him; having his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth should shut up those pompous remarks for a while. The smirk, however, is fleeting, as I quickly get to work.

_"Mobilicorpus! ... Liberacorpus! ... Reparo!"_

With just a few spells, I finally have the Joker rightfully seated at his chair, and the broken mirror cleanly mended. He seems oblivious to all this, and more preoccupied by the peculiar case of his fixed tongue. Ignoring his cries of struggle, I survey my appearance in the mirror; I brush a stray hair back into place, take a deep breath, and march confidently towards the door. Gripping the handle, I shot the wide-eyed Joker a dark warning scowl.

"Stay where you are, or I won't countermand that hex," I threaten. The Joker glares in return, both at me, my abilities and my superiority. I suppress a complacent grin as I open the door.

"It's no use; clown won't talk," I feign a long-suffering sigh as Detective Stephens strolls in, looking quite fazed after having to wait for quite some time. "He's evaded all my questions, and now he's pretending he can't talk."

The Detective and I share a glance, his being questioning and mine being confirmation, before simultaneously turning back to the Joker. Stephens has his eyebrows raised with stun, as if he had just encountered his first taste of Listerine.

The Joker looks as if he had just consumed a very sour gum drop as he tries to pry his tongue down from the roof of his mouth, with no hands. Detective Stephens is staring at him with a bemused look reserved for sideshow freaks. I do my best to stifle my laughter, let alone a grin. To Stephens, it must look as if the Joker had been kicked in the groin and had lost the capability to scream in agony. I indulge myself in a chuckle in my hand as the Joker's frantic wails louden.

"Nnnggrrrnn! _Nnnggg!"_

"C'mon Gordon," Stephens sighs, wrinkling his nose in disgust. I try to pass off my chuckling pose as if I was scratching my chin when he turns back to me. "You don't deserve to be in the same room as scum like this. Let's get some coffee."

I nod vaguely in return, and gesture for him to leave first. I'm halfway out the door when I stop and turn back to the Joker, just as his howls amplify once more.

"Nnngggrrnnrr!" he forces out feverishly, when I grin at him.

I angle my face out the door and say, "Uh, just one moment, I'll be there soon."

The Joker silences when I close the door and lean against it casually. I pull out my wand and immediately countermand the hex. Satisfied, I turn around to leave once I hear the Joker let out a gasp of air, proceeded by heavy panting.

"I'm telling!" he chokes out sulkily. My eyes narrow and his panting halts; he's probably wondering what I'm up to.

I hear him yelp with surprise when I suddenly pop out of existence, only to appear, leaning over the table towards him a second later. He inclines away from me with wide eyes; I had just apparated again.

"Even if you tell, _no one_ will believe you," I teased. He narrows his eyes, wounded. "You'll just be giving yourself another reason to be locked up in Arkham."

Tormenting him with one last, knowing smirk about the matter, I turn to retire from the room; there is a slight swagger in my step.

I hear him obnoxiously call me a "Freak!" just before I close the door on him, and my instincts tell me that this isn't the last I'll hear from him on the matter.

Mischief managed?

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**A/N:** I was thinking of making this into a longer fic; make Gordon and the Joker as a bit of an odd couple, what with Gordon trying to retain the Joker, and the Joker being smitten with his abilities (NOT Gordon) and is determined to learn more. What do you all think?

R&R or Cruciatus Curse, mmkay? XD


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